Posted in love thursday, musings, tagged anniversary, fun, love, marriage, photos, weddings on June 28, 2012 | 8 Comments »
I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly.
—Kathleen Kelly, You’ve Got Mail
Serving the wedding cake
Four years ago today, we stood up in front of God and our families and our friends who are also family, and we promised each other: It will always be you.
In Maine, last weekend
Happy anniversary, love. You’re my favorite.
Posted in musings, tagged flowers, hope, joy, photos, plants, seasons, winter on February 14, 2012 | 7 Comments »
A little Valentine’s surprise for you (because Kim asked, and because I’m still amazed):
This is my first time growing paperwhites (#4 on my winter list). I’m growing used to the sweet, odd scent – and as Julie says, they really do seem to grow before your eyes! (Though I had to transplant them all into tall vessels, so the stems wouldn’t fall over from the weight of the buds.)
What’s surprising you this winter?
Posted in food, Travel, tagged Boston, photos, seasons, snow, tea, winter on February 8, 2012 | 4 Comments »
Taken on after-work strolls around the Common and the Public Garden, and at L’Aroma Cafe on Newbury Street.
Posted in Books, musings, tagged Adam Gopnik, photos, seasons, winter on January 13, 2012 | 7 Comments »
“But a taste for winter, a love for winter vistas – a belief that they are as beautiful and seductive in their own way, and as essential to the human spirit and the human soul as any summer scene – is part of the modern condition. [...] A mind of winter, a mind for winter, not sensing the season as a loss of warmth and light, and with them hope of life and divinity, but ready to respond to it as a positive, and even purifying, presence of something else – the beautiful and peaceful, yes, but also the mysterious, the strange, the sublime – is a modern taste.”
Snow on the Common, Feb. 2011
“Winter’s persona changes with our perception of safety from it – the glass of the window, as I sensed in that November snowstorm, is the lens through which modern winter is always seen. The romance of winter is possible only when we have a warm, secure indoors to retreat to, and it becomes a season to look at as much as one to live through.”
Snow through the window, Jan. 2011
“There is a humane purpose to watching winter that is found simply in the acts of naming and describing. Winter is hard; the cold does chill; Demeter is mourning. And we oppose that threat with the quiet heroism of comfort. Central heating, double-paned windows, down coats, heated cars. But we also oppose the threatening blank bitterness of winter just by looking at it, and by saying what it’s like. [...] Names are the footholds, the spikes the imagination hammers in to get a hold on an ice wall of mere existence.”
—Adam Gopnik, “Romantic Winter,” from Winter: Five Windows on the Season
I love Gopnik’s work, particularly Paris to the Moon, so when Zoe recommended this collection on the Booksmith’s blog, I had to check it out. And I love his take on the different facets of winter – thoughtful, well-researched and gently humorous. I’m hoping his words will help me weather my second Northeastern winter gracefully.
What words and books help you through winter?
Posted in musings, writing, tagged Castle, Christmas, gifts, photos, silliness on January 2, 2012 | Leave a Comment »
I’ve made no secret of my love for Castle – the show that blends crime-solving drama with relationship tension and hilarious one-liners. J loves it almost as much as I do – so it’s no surprise that it was a Castle Christmas at our house:
Striking a pose
If you can’t tell, the apron reads “I really am ruggedly handsome” – one of Richard Castle’s classic lines.
And it’s not bulletproof (like the vest it mimics), but I do love my new shirt: 
Happy New Year, friends. I’m still savoring the joy of 9 days in Texas with family and dear friends-who-are-family – but I’m glad to be back in Boston, and in this space. More soon.
Posted in friendship, musings, tagged advent, Boston, Christmas, light, photos, seasons on December 19, 2011 | 5 Comments »
We’re into week 4 of Advent now (how is that possible?), and I’m still carrying my camera, looking out for light in likely, unlikely, metaphorical and literal places. So here, some more of my #adventpicaday photos for your viewing pleasure:
Spindly – but sparkly – trees near South Station
Afternoon sun – and some brave golden leaves – in the Public Garden
Whenever I see my long shadow stretching out ahead of me like this, I remember Emily Byrd Starr’s two lines of poetry:
“If we were as tall as our shadows
How tall our shadows would be.”
Our church Christmas pageant last Sunday (complete with either a pink poodle or a rare pink sheep, we’re not sure which).
As always, candlelight and twinkle lights abound in our apartment.
Where are you finding light this Advent?
Posted in musings, tagged advent, Christmas, holidays, light, photos, seasons, winter on December 6, 2011 | 9 Comments »
We’re deep into Advent, this season of waiting and watching, the slow, quiet buildup to the unfettered joy of Christmas. And while I am embracing the gift-buying (and -making) and the twinkly decorations and the carols, I’m also making an effort to clear some quiet space, in my life and my head and my heart.
I’m making time for mellow evenings around the tree, for rereading my very favorite Advent/Christmas novel, for reading some of the essays in my Advent book. Its title – Watch for the Light – has always perfectly summed up Advent to me, and this year a few folks on Twitter are sharing daily Advent photos on Instagram, many of them related to light, anticipation, watching and/or waiting. I’m not on Instagram, but here are a few moments of watching for, appreciating and soaking in the light this Advent:
Blue sky and golden leaves in the Public Garden
Morning light in our dining room
Evening lights in the Public Garden
Afternoon light as we decorated the church for Advent
Candlelight on our dining-room table
Our big, beautiful Christmas tree, hung with ornaments I love
Where are you seeking – and finding – light these days?
Posted in musings, tagged Christmas, holidays, memories, ornaments, photos, stories on November 30, 2011 | 8 Comments »
The Christmas tree is up again, and I’ve been spending time in front of it every night, enjoying the soft glow and the lights glinting off my beloved ornaments. I shared some of my favorites with you last year and the year before, but of course I didn’t cover them all. So welcome to Round Three of ornament photos and stories:
I had a thing for rabbits as a child, so Mom gave me this ballerina angel bunny ages ago. She nearly lost her skirt a couple of years ago and had to be mended, but her smile is as sweet as ever.
My parents travel to Santa Fe at least once a year, and this mariachi man came from one of their trips there. He adds a little Southwestern flavor to our Christmas celebrations.
Both J and I grew up in the land of high school football and fierce school pride – so, on our tree, we have ornaments representing the purple and gold of my Midland High Bulldogs:
And the black and gold of the Garland High Owls:
On a recent trip to Marblehead, we found this cool little tree made of seashells, topped with a wee starfish. Appropriately beachy since we now live on the coast:
My parents decorated their first Christmas tree in 1978 with a few strands of colored lights (which still make an appearance each year at their house) and simple, classic colored glass balls. I’ve inherited a couple dozen, and I love them for their patina and glowing colors and most of all for their history.
Do you have a tree full of quaint/wacky/nostalgic Christmas ornaments – or do you have a color-coordinated, matching tree? My sister does, but I’m too sentimental – I love these ornaments all the more for their stories.
Posted in musings, tagged autumn, Boston, fall, L.M. Montgomery, photos, seasons on November 11, 2011 | 6 Comments »
Despite rain yesterday, it’s been a beautiful week – including two positively balmy days. The Common and the Public Garden are trying to outdo one another with their leaf displays, and I’ve been walking around with my camera, trying to capture the glory:
I spent two lunch breaks in a row on the Common’s western hill, reading a book, basking in the sun and enjoying this view – coatless, scarfless and BAREFOOT, people. For probably the last time for months:
There’s nothing lovelier than leaves backlit by autumn sunshine – it’s like stained glass, only alive:
I’ve been thinking again about the descriptions of autumn in The Story Girl, and found a quote to perfectly match this week:
November dreamed that it was May. The air was soft and mellow, with pale, aerial mists in the valleys and over the leafless beeches on the western hill. The sere stubble fields brooded in glamour, and the sky was pearly blue. The leaves were still thick on the apple trees, though they were russet hued, and the after-growth of grass was richly green, unharmed as yet by the nipping frosts of previous nights. The wind made a sweet, drowsy murmur in the boughs, as of bees among apple blossoms.
“It’s just like spring, isn’t it?” asked Felicity.
The Story Girl shook her head.
“No, not quite. It looks like spring, but it isn’t spring. It’s as if everything was resting–getting ready to sleep. In spring they’re getting ready to grow. Can’t you feel the difference?”
Yes, the world is getting ready to sleep. But these bright soft days and brighter leaves are a wonderful parting gift.
Posted in Books, food, friendship, musings, tagged apples, autumn, Boston, fall, L.M. Montgomery, New England, orchard, photos, young adult lit on October 24, 2011 | 7 Comments »
On a recent, crisply beautiful (if windy) Saturday, J and I headed west (of Boston) to go apple picking with some friends. We went last year and had a blast – and this year was just as much fun. We came home with a bulging bag of apples, half a gallon of fresh apple cider and a couple dozen photos – because I can’t resist taking photos of apple orchards, or of my friends:
As so often happens for me, our experience called to mind something I’d read in a book – in this case, a passage from The Story Girl by L.M. Montgomery:
October was a busy month on the hill farms. The apples had to be picked, and this work fell mainly to us children. We stayed home from school to do it. [...]
Some of the apples had to be picked very carefully. But with others it did not matter; we boys would climb the trees and shake the apples down until the girls shrieked for mercy. The days were crisp and mellow, with warm sunshine and a tang of frost in the air, mingled with the woodsy odours of the withering grasses. The hens and turkeys prowled about, pecking at windfalls, and Pat [the cat] made mad rushes at them amid the fallen leaves. The world beyond the orchard was in a royal magnificence of colouring, under the vivid blue autumn sky. The big willow by the gate was a splendid golden dome, and the maples that were scattered through the spruce grove waved blood-red banners over the sombre cone-bearers.
Sigh. Doesn’t that sound like perfection?
Our excursion wasn’t quite that magical, but with good friends, laughter around a picnic table, and two long, leisurely strolls through the rows (one before lunch, one after), filling our bags and soaking up the beautiful day and each other’s company, it was pretty close.
